


In Perspective

by beemotionpicture



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 1x5, 5+1, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beemotionpicture/pseuds/beemotionpicture
Summary: Five times Heero kissed Wufei, and one time Wufei kissed back.
Relationships: Chang Wufei/Heero Yuy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: 2020 Gundam Wing Pride Event





	In Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perfectjustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectjustice/gifts).



> For Nonnie.
> 
> I love Gundam Wing so much, and I’m so glad to finally be able to contribute to this fandom! Thank you to Nonnie for your constant cheerleading and support. Super duper belated happy birthday hon!

—

**1**

—

It was a little over three hours since Heero was supposed to have returned.

Wufei wasn’t worried; truly, he wasn’t. Currently he hovered on the edge of consciousness, in the realm before sleep where waking thoughts and dreams blurred.

Wufei trusted Heero _implicitly_ , both on the field and out of it. Theirs was a relationship cultivated by years of fighting side by side, first during the war and now as Preventers; as brothers in arms are partners in new, unfamiliar territory. They were two of a force that had razed the Earth—two of five that had, somehow, paved a path for change and for peace. They were dangerous; as such, they had had to learn which sides of themselves tempered each other’s flaws, and the strengths which complemented the other’s weaknesses… which is where the trust came in.

It was terrifying, surprising, and thrilling all the same, how that same trust translated so easily into other aspects of their life.

He heard Heero enter their apartment. Wufei could see it in his mind’s eye: Heero, barefoot, having toed off his shoes at the main door, creeping steadily up the stairs; duffel slung by his side, him having just come from headquarters where he’d had his debriefing; calm and no longer keyed up from the six-day mission. The door opened behind Wufei (but it didn’t creak—they had neither the patience nor the desire to put up with that in their own bedroom) and he stirred, eyes fluttering slightly although sleep still threatened to chase him. He wanted to be awake.

“I’m home,” said Heero, moving behind him, settling down on the bed briefly to press a kiss to his cheek. He lingered for longer than necessary, and Wufei smiled—before he was off again, padding towards the dresser and then out of the room.

Wufei had asked him once after a mission why he didn’t shower at HQ— _surely you’d be able to sleep faster—_ and he’d received a simple answer in return. _I’m home,_ Heero had said then, stubbornly even, before turning around and falling asleep as though to show just how much he meant it. Wufei had looked at him in bafflement, but truly he’d understood.

Now, as he listened to Heero showering in the next room, safe and sound, Wufei found himself drifting off… trusting that Heero would join him soon.

—

**2**

—

Wufei was well and truly _furious._

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. Heero could be exasperating, he knew that better than anybody, but usually Wufei could compartmentalize and regroup and not stew in his anger the way he did during the war. It wasn’t healthy, and falling into old habits wouldn’t help anyone… but still! He also knew that there was no invalidating his feelings when they were as strong as this, and since it wasn’t exactly something Wufei considered therapy-worthy, he decided to find someone else to rant to.

None of the other Preventers met his eyes as he stormed the hallways, some even ducking their heads as he passed. He clenched his fists and seethed, anger bubbling in his gut and ready to explode. Then he saw a target; finally someone who could take him, someone he could blow up against and who would with no question push back in case he was being completely irrational—

Sally made a sharp cutting motion against her throat, shaking her head at him through the glass. She looked apologetic as she gestured at the phone cradled in between her head and shoulder, mouthing something about… Ah. She was on a call, likely with Noin, and couldn’t talk to him now. No matter, he nodded understandingly, and moved along.

Trowa, then.

Trowa would let him blow off some steam, and hopefully if talking didn’t work they could even have it out—at the gym, of course, where it would be a proper match even though he knew everyone would be ogling them. It was strange to have three known Gundam pilots working as Preventers, and even though the war had been over for years it likely would never get old.

Wufei stopped abruptly in front of Trowa’s office, deciding that fate was not on his side—he felt it cold and empty without even having opened the door. Sure enough, a sharp rap against the laminate yielded no results in his favor. He let out an audible growl in his throat then, causing some poor intern to cow across from him in the hallway.

He made quick strides towards the elevator, intending to return to his own office… and stuttered to a halt as he turned the corner, having run into the last person he wanted to see.

Her eyes darted from Wufei to the numbers above the elevator, light still flickering twelve floors above them. They shot back to him.

“Chang,” Une said with a nod, somehow sounding as awkward as he felt.

Wufei’s foot hovered over the ground for a split second too long before he fell back into step. He acknowledged her with a curt, “Commander,” and turned to wait for the lift, markedly fixing his stare on the doors and _not_ the light flashing far too slowly from right to left. Fool! He should’ve gone down the stairs.

“Good job on the Moreau case.” 

Wufei nodded politely.

“I know it can’t have been easy,” she continued, “what with that last curveball they threw at us.”

He silently begged his ancestors to take pity on him, but Une still wouldn’t stop with the small talk. It was what he deserved, Wufei supposed, having gone on a rampage over such a silly little thing. This continued for five agonizing minutes when she finally finished with:

“And Chang? I reviewed the paperwork, perhaps it would be best if you were to fill it out instead of Yuy in the future. I know he considers such things trivial, compared to the mission—”

Quite a few things happened in that moment: Wufei snarled, Une stiffened, looking alarmed, and the elevator doors opened to reveal none other than Heero Yuy himself.

Resisting the urge to tear his hair out, Wufei turned on his heel and stormed away; he’d take the stairs down to his office instead. Heero, unable to take a hint, followed suit.

“You’re angry with me.”

“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me,” Wufei snapped as the door to the stairwell closed behind them. He crossed his arms and turned around, raising an eyebrow in expectation.

“Sally spent the last half hour giving me a stern talking to,” was what Heero followed up with.

Wufei _may_ have perked up at that. “Oh?” So, she’d been on the phone with Heero. 

“Yes.”

Giving him a once over, Wufei could tell that Heero did look properly repentant… Still, the frown didn’t leave his face.

Heero reached out slowly with one hand, an earnestness in his eyes that had Wufei softening slightly. In the end they didn’t touch. Heero let his arm fall down to his side, saying simply, “I’m sorry, I understand why the forms are important… we need them, in this new world.” The slightest crease marred his face; he didn’t like having unresolved feelings between them.

It was enough to show he understood.

Wufei allowed Heero to press a chaste kiss to his forehead in apology, smoothing the furrow from his brow. He grumbled, “I’m still cross with you,” but leaned into the touch all the same. 

—

**3**

—

It was rare for all five of them to come together like this.

But after a particularly dangerous mission for Trowa, Quatre had plainly asked them to make the effort; which spurred Duo on to spam their group chat with messages like _BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT_ and _bros are you ready to get REKT;_ which _then_ made Trowa file for a proper day off for himself, Heero, and Wufei, If just to shut Duo up. (Quatre doubted it would work, but that was beside the point.)

Which was how Wufei found himself drinking tea in one of the many, many rooms in one of Quatre’s many, _many_ manors.

“No, but _really,_ ” Duo gesticulated wildly, beer bottle in hand, “how come you two never so much as _hold hands_ in front of us? I mean, don’t get me wrong, m’not expecting you guys to be lovey dovey or anything but—come on, _zero_ displays of affection? Really?”

Wufei and Heero looked at Duo, twin looks that screamed unimpressed. Quatre tried (and failed) to hide a smile, while Trowa just closed his eyes (and most definitely did not seem amused).

“Come on, guys, back me up!” Duo whined at the two. To Heero and Wufei he directed, “So you’ll just… never kiss in front of your friends?” He turned the famous Maxwell puppy dog eyes on them, but Wufei wasn’t having it. 

“We don’t need to,” he retorted, while Heero said something else at the same time. Wufei’s surprised eyes snapped to Heero, who merely looked unbothered, sipping on some water. Wufei _squinted_ at him. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Heero answered without skipping a beat, “we could.” He took another sip of water.

Duo paused, still as Shinigami ever could be; Trowa leaned over over to pluck the bottle from Duo’s hand and take his own swig of the beer; and Quatre coughed, giving Wufei and Heero a look of sparkling mirth.

Wufei stared, baffled.

And then when Heero reached over and cradled his hand, he stared some more.

“What are you doing?” Wufei asked warily.

He felt a weird rush of— _something_ , the same thing he did whenever he and Heero touched. It was always like that between them: whether it was Heero choosing to sit next to Wufei as he did his university work; whether it was them reaching over one another to grab a gun from the weapons locker; whether it was Wufei practicing his clan’s forms against Heero’s own moves in their daily sparring session.

It had never been like that with anybody else. Not the other pilots, not Meiran; Heero was truly special to him, the only one allowed to touch.

Wufei didn’t look away and neither did Heero. Absently he registered a sharp intake of breath off to the side—Duo, Wufei could tell, and wasn’t that strange; he never usually let himself make any noise. No, the eyes he felt were even stranger, Trowa’s piercing green, still unreadable, fixated on the two of them. But not even Quatre’s small, questioning hum brought him out of the moment, entranced as he was.

Heero brushed his lips against Wufei’s knuckles.

“… Heero?”

Then he let go, sat back, and sipped some more water. He shrugged off the other Pilots’ wide-eyed looks.

After a good five seconds, Duo finally broke the silence with a bark of laughter, and that was that.

Wufei spent the rest of the night inordinately pleased.

—

**4**

—

They made barely any sounds, the springboard underneath them cushioning every blow. The way they sparred was always clean, efficient, beautiful… but today, it was _heated_.

“I win,” Heero murmured against the flushed skin of his neck, pinning him to the mat.

A bead of sweat ran down Wufei’s jaw, settling in the hollow of his throat, before Heero kissed it away.

 _No,_ Wufei was unable to say, suddenly finding himself _very_ distracted. _I’m pretty sure I do._

—

**5**

—

It wasn’t the pain of the wound that kept him awake. No, it was the frustration that he’d gotten shot in the first place.

He’d only be out of commission for a couple of weeks, thank the gods for modern medicine. In the end, it didn’t matter—the shame was yet there, coiling deep in his gut. They may have accomplished the mission, but Wufei still felt like a failure.

Heero was a steadfast presence beside his hospital bed, but Wufei ignored him. 

There was an attempt by Heero, meager as it was, to card his hands through Wufei’s hair. He jerked his head aside, even though it made his vision swim.

“What’s bothering you?”

“What do you _think_ ,” he said cuttingly.

“I don’t know.” Heero was patient, as always. “ It’s why I’m asking.”

Wufei counted backwards from a hundred. He didn’t bother waiting to finish, by his mid-thirties letting out an angry breath.

Insecurity weighed on him like a blanket. The pain medication hadn’t worn off yet, and despite him having torn out his IV almost immediately he felt like giving into sleep—that would be so much easier—but what right did _he_ have to take the easy route? Depression threatened him once more, but he shook his head to chase it away. He found himself clenching his fists, nails cutting deep enough to draw blood.

Heero reached out to him. This time, he let his hand be held.

The war was over but he couldn’t let himself be useless. After he’d gotten shot, Wufei had seen visions of Heero prone on the ground. A premonition. _Useless_. He almost hadn’t woken up to see Heero, because he’d let himself get shot. Blameless. He should move on, moving on was what Heero had taught him, but he still felt so useless—

Heero unfolded his hand, staring silently down at the crescents on his palm. Someone else would have sighed, but thankfully Heero didn’t, because Wufei would’ve punched him if he did.

Instead, he kissed Wufei’s wrist, for three beats of his heart. Wufei imagined he could feel Heero’s own pulse through his skin.

“You’re alive.” Heero sounded thankful.

Heero was thankful.

Heero kissed him again, every inch of skin that he could.

—

**\+ 1**

—

This was how it happened:

It was quite the uneventful morning, the day after _BOYS NIGHT 2.0._ Wufei had drunk something a little stronger than tea this time, and now nursed a headache and a mouth full of cotton—all the while having to juggle the usual paperwork, instruct the new recruits, and attend physical therapy every other day. 

None of that would explain Wufei’s unusually good mood, but it was really rather simple: he was content, being back at work.

Heero knocked on Wufei’s open door. Wufei knew he didn’t understand the gesture, it being one of those things Sally had taught him to do, but the fact that he did it anyway was… strangely endearing. “I’m going to get lunch. From the deli that just opened,” Heero said, in a slightly stilted way that made it known he must _also_ have a hangover.

When Wufei looked up, however, Heero just looked eager. Two years together and he still looked forward to eating their meals together at work. “Takeout?” he asked encouragingly, stifling a chuckle.

“Yes. They don’t deliver.”

“What are you having?”

Heero rattled off his order like… well, like he’d just been given an order. Yes, Heero was _definitely_ endearing, in his own way.

Wufei hummed, straightening his pile of papers and standing up. “I need to go file this, but I’ll be here when you get back.”

Not a lot of people would be able to tell, but Heero looked pleased—he nodded his head once, hair falling over his eyes. A smile played at his lips, and Wufei found himself returning it.

“I’ll be off now.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.” Wufei said, absentmindedly giving Heero a peck on the lips before he walked past him out the door.

… 

“ _Did you_ **_see_ ** _that?!_ ”

Unbeknownst to Wufei, the whispers started as soon as he left the floor. Heero said nothing, but looked rather smug.

And _that_ was how they became the power couple of the Preventers.


End file.
